Rising Signs
by Ginneke
Summary: Regular "monsters" aren't the ones to be scared of. The monsters around you? They're a different story. But the worst of all dwell in your heart, when the memories come back. When the world changes. When you find out you're technically dead... like me.
1. Dark Signer

**Title**: Rising Signs

**Rating**: T for moderate and occasional strong language, some mature (non-sexual) themes, and moderate violence.

**Summary**: _Regular "monsters" aren't the ones to be scared of. The monsters around you? They're a different story. But the worst of all dwell in your heart, when the memories come back. When the world changes. When you find out you're technically dead... like me._

**Warnings**: semi-Alternate Reality from Episode 111 onwards, so S3 spoilers aplenty! Uses Japanese names and storyline.

This story is included in what I am now calling the **Parts!verse**, as it follows on from "The Sum of His Parts" (a José-centric oneshot). Reading this oneshot is not vital, but is recommended – it provides an overview of some non-canon concepts I first introduced there and will reuse. In addition, you may find references to "Opposition" in here - that's **Parts!verse** too.

This is not intended to be an outright pairing fic, although if anything it will lean towards Retribution- or Scoopshipping,. (And I might lay hints for a whole _host_ of pairings, just for the lulz.)

**Disclaimer**: Much as I love the show, it isn't mine. I'm just playing in Takahashi-sensei's sandbox. This is in no way created for profit - I'm just a simple fan, writing because I love the show and I want to explore what _could_ have happened. ...Though if I could just adopt Lucciano or the twins (or all three! :3) I'd be a _very_ happy Gin.

* * *

Chapter 1 – Dark Signer

* * *

Thick black smoke painted the air, mirrored by a nimbus of purple fire that wreathed the oil-dark water stretching between the former Satellite and Neo Domino. A siren wailed. Bright blue flashes splintered through the lateness of night, the winking eye of a Security vehicle. The duel lanes stood empty, evacuated of all civilians and duelists; all, save for the two figures who had wrought such a drastic change, and the third who had plunged through the barrier of flames in an attempt to stop them.

Asides from the obvious – the rising pillar of smoke – the sky yawned empty. Those two monsters, the Synchro Killer and a strange black bird, had disappeared from sight, leaving Ushio-sempai free to conduct an aerial search of the duel lanes. So far they had found no signs of life. And, if that helicopter didn't hurry up and do its job, reaching the loser of the duel would only come after they... after it would already be too late. He'd _seen_ the twisted remains of that Bokuru guy. The duelist hadn't stood a chance.

_Do its job_. As if that had any significance. If they really wanted, they could surely traverse the flames and continue on their way. Safety procedures. Kazama Souichi grumbled impatiently, but knew he had to tread carefully or risk probation: the higher-ups considered him too irresponsible, borderline a danger to the force, whenever there were issues of a … "delicate" nature.

In an attempt to distract his errant thoughts, he turned to eavesdropping on Sagiri-san. She was issuing frantic orders to the helicopter high overhead, her normally mild voice tense with worry. He studied her for a moment. Her posture was uncharacteristically stiff. Kazama had worked in association with her only once or twice, but she was notorious for being more relaxed around people than Ushio-sempai… He supposed it was Ushio-sempai she spoke to with such urgency. Most of what was said applied to procedure, the bane of his 'reckless' existence, but two words caught his interest. "Dark Signer" – a phrase he had never heard before in his life.

Given the context, it had everything to do with that giant bird.

He had no further opportunity to ponder the mystery of Sagiri-san's words. The last flickering flames were beginning to die down. His fingers twitched to the controls of his D-Wheel, earning him a sharp reprimand from the guy to his left. So his reputation preceded him. (In all truthfulness, Kazama was considered either one of the bravest men in Security, or the craziest.) Static blurred in his ears as the radio programmed into his helmet crackled to life. Kazama waited with characteristic impatience for his orders to be relayed, mumbling under his breath, _"Come on!"_

They had to hurry.

Five, ten, thirty seconds passed. Come _on_, he repeated more urgently; at last, though, the wait was over. Permission granted. His D-Wheel roared into life. Kazama was the first to punch across where the boundary had previously been defined in solid violet flame, orders still echoing in his ears. They had all been given explicit instructions: _Locate, do not engage_. Not one of the seventeen officers now spreading across the network of lanes had the Duel function in operation, just in case the Synchro Killer still lurked among the cordoned-off duel lanes. After that debacle with the Ghost army, and Ushio-sempai's crash all those months ago, Kazama knew just how dangerous these people could be.

He glanced over his shoulder. Typical: he was alone. Kazama shrugged it off – he knew that most others found him a little, well, _odd_. Perhaps it said something about him, that one of the only people who could stand to work with him for an extended period was somebody even _more_ uncontrollable.

There would never be another man like Jack Atlus. Kazama wasn't sure he could cope if there was.

His mood shifted as he noticed the cracks threaded through the walls of the duel lane, like a network of veins. _Impossible_. That glass was specially designed to withstand any kind of impact, from crashes to speeding bullets (both things he knew from experience). For a duel to cause so much damage… whatever "Dark Signer" meant, if it could wreak havoc on an equal scale to a Synchro Killer, even Kazama had no desire to cross it.

Still, he would admit to the stirrings of curiosity. If that were a crime then he would have earned himself enough jail terms to last five lifetimes, and then some.

The whir of an engine. Another D-Wheel drew alongside. "Sagiri-san says two of the D-Wheels are up ahead," called its rider, a grizzled officer named Suzuki Kaji, across the sound of buffeting air. Then his expression turned stern. "You should be more careful, Kazama-kun. Going off on your own is foolish."

Kazama made a small noise of agreement, scarcely paying attention as he glanced at the road behind them through his wing mirror. No pursuers, which was either a small blessing in a patchwork of misfortune, or a cause for concern. Judging by the scars of battle littering this lane, he had chosen the route they had taken. The blue-haired man had to know what fate had befallen the duelist foolish enough to oppose a Synchro Killer. The scale of the damage left him with a sense of dwindling hope.

_Don't you dare get yourself killed. Idiot._

The helicopter rattled overhead. Disturbed air translated into vibrations, which became an uncomfortable _whup-whup_ in his ears. High above them, the smudge of Ushio-sempai's form leaned from the aircraft. He'd be unable to see much from that height, Kazama reasoned, as the man withdrew his head and shoulders from the open hatch. An unwelcome interruption dragged his attention away from Ushio-sempai and his actions - Kaji whistling loudly through tobacco-stained teeth as he scoured a map on his display; the racket overhead faded away, the helicopter moving to another area. "This lane will be out of service for some time. There's too much damage. Surely it can't be safe for us to come down here. We should find another…"

"Look at that!" exclaimed Kazama, ignoring the more experienced man's words. He lifted a hand from his D-Wheel, pointing through one of the amber-tinted walls. There was something around that corner, something he couldn't quite make out from here. Kaji peered into the darkness, flicking his headlamps to main beam in an attempt to see more.

Ahead of them, something had ripped a hole through the middle of the duel lane. Kazama remembered how the huge black bird had dipped its head at one point, shortly after it had appeared. Tried to imagine that beak spearing the duel lane. Jagged glass, twisted metal. Kaji swore violently and slammed his foot on the brakes. The younger Security officer accelerated.

_It can't be that hard, _Kazama reasoned, as he sped towards the edge of the hole. After all, Jack did this sort of thing all the time. The way it had been torn had left a ramp of sorts, which he could surely use…

Kaji's shouted objections registered only after his back wheel started churning through air. Kazama's maroon eyes glinted. Jack would call him reckless. Jack was hardly one to talk, being foolish enough to hurl himself through violet flames_—_

_Crunch._ The jolt of impact ground glass fragments into dust. His back wheel juddered. Kazama almost lost his balance. Steady there, steady! He wrestled his D-Wheel back under control, skidding to a graceless halt. Kaji dismounted and rushed to the edge, removing his helmet. "Fool, you could have killed yourself!"

"I had everything under control," Kazama called back in denial, nerves shot through by a rush of adrenaline. That had been one of the stupidest things he had _ever_ done, including the time when he'd swerved into the path of a gun while driving a stolen D-Wheel. Blew his cover and was hospitalised for three weeks. One of the worst experiences in his life.

Even the risk of death couldn't curb the belief that he had made the right decision.

Kaji swore again, pacing up and down like a caged tiger. "Fine. Go on ahead. But whatever you do, do _not_ under any circumstances engage in a duel. Do you understand?"

"Of course." Kazama coaxed his engine back into life. He was _reckless_, not _stupid_. "First sign of a Synchro Killer, I'll call for back-up, the same if I find the other duelist. Is that okay by you, Ka-jisan?"

"Insolent whelp," Kaji shot over his shoulder as he stalked back to the D-Wheel, tension knotting his shoulders. That, from a crotchety old man like him, was almost a 'yes'. Kaji would forever be an open book… Engine roaring, Kazama wasted no time in moving on. There were other routes onto this particular duel lane. Kaji would catch him up soon enough.

Or he hoped so. For all his reckless bravado, even Kazama had to admit the Synchro Killers intimidated him – because he held no idea of what they were capable of.

Frowning, the blue-haired man envisaged the final moments of the duel – or what little he had pieced together from observing the monolithic monsters. There had been a stabbing motion of the beak, the one which had caused the damage back there. Yes, and barely three minutes after that, the monsters faded from the sky. That must have been the point where the duel ended. Kazama tried to picture the route he was taking. At his current speed, then it would take him less time than that to reach the duelist, if there was no more debris in his way. He hoped not. The silence suggested he was right.

He rounded a corner, and immediately was struck by how different things were. This section of duel lane remained pristine. Not a single crack or damaged construct in sight. It was eerily calm, compared to what he had seen before. So after the – Dark Signer? was that the right phrase? – ended their turn, nothing had happened for some time… the Synchro Killer taunting him, perhaps. Kazama almost preferred the wanton destruction. At least there, he could figure out what had happened—

…what…

…_no_…

…_Damn it_.

He'd found them.

Lying on its side, crumpled and battered, the Wheel of Fortune belched smoke into the air. Jack Atlus was nowhere in sight, a small relief: maybe he'd survived, got out of the wreckage in time. A smaller, more delicate D-Wheel – deep red, with a repeating orange motif and a wing-like design at the back – had been abandoned nearby. It too had sustained heavy damage, the left hand side buckled, as though something, perhaps another D-Wheel, had smashed into it at speed.

Kazama cursed again and switched his headlights to main beam, his vehicle screaming to a halt a safe distance from the wreckage. "Jack! Jack, can you hear me? Where are you?"

The helicopter rattled overhead, drowning any reply that might have come. _Hang_ procedure, he couldn't just stand back and do nothing! "Jack," he called again, choking as the whirling wind swept a fresh billow of smoke into his face. Kazama all but threw himself from his D-Wheel, feeling rather than seeing the glass that grated underfoot.

Somewhere beyond the smoke curtain came the sound of a woman's voice, pitched high with emotion. "He's here, over here, hurry, _please_…"

Dark Signer. It must be, whatever one of those actually was (and to think he'd assumed it a man). The Synchro Killer would hardly hang around waiting for Security to show up and arrest them. Sagiri-san's frantic conferral with Ushio-sempai had suggested that the Dark Signer was dangerous, just as dangerous as the Synchro Killer. But there was an undercurrent of fear in her voice that made her sound so lost and terrified, so alone, Kazama found himself shoving aside the doubt. Even though she was culpable for at least half of the damage which had been wrought. Even though she could yet prove a danger to herself and others.

He left his D-Wheel where it was, lights flashing into the night to attract the attention of the helicopter. Kazama plunged through the smoke, feet crunching over shattered glass, in the direction the voice had come from. The smoke stung his sinuses and burned in his throat. He had to try and remember not to breathe.

Crouched on the asphalt was an irregular shape, still blurred by the haze. A kneeling figure, with something long and white stretched out along the ground. No. Please, no. _Don't let Jack be dead._ They could have prevented this. They should have stopped him, somehow. Security was supposed to _protect_ people.

The woman glanced up. "Are you with… Security?" she asked, staring at him (through him) with wide unfocussed eyes. In the inky night, she would be unable to see his uniform. Dark hair framed a pale, drawn face – she looked like she hadn't slept properly in some time, which could explain why her gaze felt like she was looking through him, not _at_ him. "He's gone. The… the Machine Emperor is gone. You won't find him here—"

"Miss, please, calm down." Kazama swallowed, scanning the unconscious Jack for signs of obvious injury. "You moved him?"

"I had to." Her hands fluttered helplessly above the injured man's chest. "I couldn't just leave Jack in there…!"

Kazama looked at her askance, then across to the D-Wheel wreck still spewing thick smoke. Inhaling those fumes could prove disastrous for Jack, for any of them. Thankfully the wind was carrying the smoke away. The woman had been aware enough of her surroundings to judge that, in any case. "Have you noticed any irregularities in his condition?"

He kept his tone crisp and professional, despite his inner turmoil. Procedures. For once he was actually grateful for them. The young woman shook her head. Her body trembled with violent shivers. It wasn't a particularly cold night, but so much of her body was exposed that she probably felt it anyway. Perhaps delayed emotional shock. Kazama made a mental note to warn his fellow officers before they took her in for questioning.

"I didn't know what to look for. He regained consciousness for a bit, but he couldn't move or anything and he fainted again soon after…" The woman stifled a sob. Her breathing was erratic. Damn it, she was on the brink of a panic attack. "It's my fault!"

"Look, miss, please _calm down_," said Kazama, kneeling on the ground next to her. Next to Jack. The blond duelist looked impossibly young without his trademark scowl. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I just need to know what happened here."

"What happened…?" she asked slowly, still shaking. By the blue flashes of light from Kazama's D-Wheel, piercing through the veil of smoke, the tears shimmering in her eyes became visible. "I… the Machine Emperor attacked me. One of its parts had been upgraded so my opponent could attack my lifepoints directly. He had already stolen Red Daemon's to fuel its attack… he only _needed_ that one attack to take me out, even though… We were winning – Jack could have beaten him – but…

"He chose me. Jack chose _me_, over stopping the Machine Emperor. And he got himself hurt instead!"

"So you pulled him out of the wreckage, over here," said Kazama, trying to steer her away from self-blame as he continued to piece together what had happened. "There's no outward suggestion of severe injury, but I can't say for certain. For now, miss, we have to assume his spine has been injured – no more moving him unless strictly necessary." She nodded, taking one of Jack's hands in hers. If this was a Dark Signer, then Kazama could not comprehend Sagiri-san's worry over the subject. This woman seemed utterly harmless, not the monster his superior's tone had suggested.

Although… she had been attacked by a Synchro Killer. How was she even alive? Still, that would explain the dent in her D-Wheel and… oh. _Oh._ No wonder she claimed it was her fault. Jack had shunted her out of the way, so he was struck with the full brunt of the Synchro Killer's attack…

—_This is how I always am,— Kazama says, still grinning despite the pain from that attack, and Jack smirks. If you get hurt again, the blond tells him, tone deathly serious, my pride won't allow it.—_

Stifling a groan, Kazama realised that yes, that was precisely the sort of crazy stunt Jack would pull, and there was only a handful of people he would take such risks for. And now he knew who this woman was. She looked different without her glasses. "Carly Nagisa. I should have realised sooner. You've been on the Missing Persons register for almost a month—"

"Kekekeke…!"

A high, shrill peal of laughter dragged his attention from the woman, whose eyes had widened in disbelief (a _month_, he heard her whisper), and even distracted him from the rattling presence of the helicopter, which was searching for a place to land nearby. He looked up. There was a child, a long-haired boy of no more than thirteen perching on the edge of the duel lane. His features were shrouded by shadows – Kazama saw nothing to identify him, a calculated move. "You're too late," he said gleefully, a wide grin – the white flash of teeth all that was visible – splitting his face almost in two. "Too late! Kekekeke…"

She turned blindly in the child's direction, a mask of horror twisting her face. Her fingers convulsed around Jack's limp, unresisting hand, clinging to it as though it were her anchor to sanity, while the boy beamed down at them and stood precariously on one bright blue roller blade. He looked like he might overbalance and fall at any moment. "The King is dead," he announced with a loud cackle, revelling in the spasm of pain that flashed across her face. "Long live the King."

Long live the King… No, that child was lying. He had to be lying. Jack couldn't be…

The woman – Carly, he reminded himself, it was Carly – spoke. Her voice was low and hurt and defeated.

"He's not breathing."

* * *

Character Notes:

鈴木 火事

**Suzuki Kaji** : Kaji is a _very_ minor OC who acts as a foil to his younger, more reckless colleague. Kazama occasionally addresses him as Ka-jisan, or Uncle, playing on the second syllable of his name and the … 'unique' nature of their working relationship. He may crop up again. He might not. Depends if I need a Security officer above nameless-mook status.

Other Notes:

Much of the idea for this story originated from the Retributionshipping forum on Janime – I'd like to thank orangerebellion (Shadow) and raiu9 for all the speculation we mustered! I couldn't have done this without you.

I'm trying to keep writing 2-3 chapters ahead of posting, in case I hit a wall. Currently chapter 2 is almost complete, and the structures of chapters 3 and 4 are set out (both in progress). I won't post chapter 2 until 3 is almost complete, so please be patient!


	2. Puzzle Pieces

**Brief note:** I hope I didn't put anyone off with the whole _long introduction from a mostly-unknown PoV_ thing. It was, however, entirely necessary. I needed a character with a connection to either Jack or Carly, but no emotional investment in the Dark Signer days, and Kazama was my best option.

We'll be moving back into "safer" territory now. Please, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 2 – Puzzle Pieces

_

* * *

Don't lock the door! I've been caged too long already. Too long spent in isolation with only my gaolers for company, deprived of the place where I belong. I can't, won't be caged again! _

_What happened? Where is the world I knew? But it's still out there. I caught a glimpse of it earlier, enough to quench my thirst for freedom. I crave it. Soon, I will have that freedom again. They shall not keep me from my place; I cannot be dragged down now._

_Do you hear me? I have won._

_You just don't know it yet._

* * *

It could only be described as a hospital scent (unsurprising, really, considering where they were). White walls, some with the faint hint of a recent lick of paint. Clean, sterile air. The smell of cheap vending-machine coffee pervading every corner the waiting rooms. Underneath, something cold. Clinical. Stifled. The constant thrum of tension.

As a kid growing up in Satellite, Crow had always known to be alert to his surroundings. Hospitals were unfamiliar territory but, really, the emotions they housed weren't all that different from the slums. Loneliness. Anxiety. Despair. Anger. And somewhere there would be somebody crying. There was always crying.

Crow hated hospitals. If you needed a hospital then someone was hurt. They had seen too many people hurt, these past six months. All the incidents linked back to a core of three people: the Three Emperors of Iliaster. If Crow ever got his hands on the bastards he'd make them pay.

There was still no change to the display winking over the door, no fading light to say, _'the worst is over'_. Crow didn't have a clue when it came to medical stuff – and could he be blamed? he'd learned to read from _cards_, scavenged from junkyards, he wasn't a freaking _doctor_ – and he didn't understand half of what the quacks had said, but he knew it was serious from Yuusei's grimace of despair. Spinal injury, they suspected, and underneath the medical jargon lurked the suspicion that none of them wanted to hear.

Paralysis. Jack may never regain full mobility again, was their implication (veiled under complex words and fake smiles and insincerity)—and that was if he even woke up.

Which was just fucking _peachy_. Crow burrowed into his jacket, finding comfort in the familiar battered leather and the smell of motor oil. Any minute now, he would wake up. This was only a nightmare. _Jack is_ _indestructible_, he reasoned, _so everything must be okay_ – after all, Jack frequently walked away from bad situations, if not unscathed, then at least in one piece…

Had someone told Martha yet? He couldn't remember. Crow cast his eyes around the sterile white of the waiting room. All of Team 5D's were assembled, forming various clusters around the room. Aki, with the twins dozing on either side of her, kept glancing between him and Yuusei – the _de facto_ leader was entrenched in conversation with Bruno, poring over the data extracted from the wreckage of the Wheel of Fortune. Nobody else. Did anyone else care enough to be here?

No media either. That was a relief. Not _yet_, anyway. Journalists, news reporters, anyone with a whiff of self-interest and the burning desire for a scoop – and what better news story than the former King fighting for his survival?

Crow peered around the doorframe. He had taken the seat nearest the corridor, where he could easily keep an eye on the display. All that broke the monotony of the old, impersonal white walls were footsteps echoing dull and empty across the linoleum floors, and the occasional glimpse of a doctor or nurse hurrying past.

He wondered if Team 5D's was cursed. Everything pieced together too conveniently, and Crow couldn't help but think that that Iliaster bunch had it out for them. If only he knew **why**. His crash. Aki's crash. Yuusei's miraculous escape. Jack…

…_Jack_…

…might never know that he was sorry, for everything, and Crow wouldn't let Jack fade on them now. Even if there was nothing he could do – then he'd _find_ something.

Anything.

He'd track down those Iliaster bastards and kill them himself, if it would bring Jack back to them whole and sound.

He'd turn back time, prevent Jack from ever leaving the garage, if it meant he would be okay now.

He'd… _damn it_, this was a waste of time, and it wasn't like he could do anything. Crow heaved a sigh and folded his knees up to his chest, curling up small like he'd used to do when hiding from the bigger kids in Satellite, the ones who had tried to take his precious cards from him. It felt strange doing this again. Crow hadn't suffered such a crisis of confidence in years.

A passing nurse glared at him pointedly, but Crow ignored her. His boots were _clean_. Well, cleaner than they'd been for some months. And what did it matter if he was putting his feet up on the chair? If Crow didn't know better he'd say it was a deliberate ploy to prevent people from trying to make themselves comfortable. Not that it was easy, sitting around when one of his brothers was in critical condition and the doctors wouldn't even let them see him, just to know he'll be okay for a little while longer…

Crow's head dropped onto his knees. His neck felt like rubber, and it took too much energy – and effort – to keep his head up. He fought against the tiredness as long as possible, but it slowly turned into a losing battle. Surely it wouldn't hurt if he closed his eyes for… just a few minutes…

_

* * *

Booted feet pound down a twisting, writhing mass of paths that flicker and change every second, making his head reel dizzily. Up ahead, a white figure stalks through the maze, unfazed by the changes. He calls out a name. His voice emerges as a low croak. All the time, Jack is getting further away, and no matter how far or how fast he runs he can never catch up—_

_He trips on an indistinct shape and goes sprawling. The rough, uneven ground abrades his left hand as he throws it out to catch his fall. Bright blood oozes from the broken skin. He stares at it for a moment. This is a dream, right? Surely this can't be real. It sure hurts like it is._

"_Damn it!" he curses, and scrambles to his feet. Jack is gone. The maze murmurs, and the ground starts to rumble under him. The passage is deteriorating. Crow yells in surprise – or croaks, at least, his voice still not working. His eyes close on instinct as he flinches; the earth roars, and a pattern of shifting violet flames leap from the cracks—_

—_His eyes open again. There's a whirring nearby, the rumble of an engine, and he blinks away the afterimage of the flames burnt into his retinas. What was _that_ all about…? The last time he saw purple fire was in the Condor's geoglyph, so what is one doing in his dreams?_

_Wait. He knows this place. His room, in the cosy apartment above their garage. His room with the kids' banner clumsily pinned by the window, and the familiar scavenged trinkets and junk – habits of a lifetime are difficult to break._

_It isn't a geoglyph that woke him. Instead it is the sound of a D-Wheel powering out of the garage at gone midnight, without heed for the three people upstairs who are – were – sleeping. Crow stumbles over to the window, bleary-eyed and his shock of red hair sticking out in every direction, in time to see the rounded silhouette of the Wheel of Fortune fade into the darkness. For a moment he thinks he's watched this scene before. It's all so familiar. That French phrase. Déjà vu. _

_A faint glimmer of _something_ flickers across the sky, so brief that Crow barely notices. Probably a strange cloud formation catching the moonlight at an odd angle. He lifts an arm to scrub away the sleep clogging his eyes – he still thrives in the relief of being freed from his cast, 'cause doing everything one-handed really got old fast and he has to go back to work soon. The rent doesn't pay itself._

_Then he freezes. The birthmark is blazing on his skin, but it doesn't hurt. Nor (and Crow isn't adept at reading the signs yet, not like the others) are any Signers in danger. Yet. Surely they aren't. _

_Crow peers back up at the sky, uncertain. His brow furrows, distorting the yellow markers adorning his forehead. That pattern, it looks familiar. Kinda like a bird. Yeah, that's right, it's a bird hung all wonky in the sky like a child's doodle. Except he's never seen that shape before. Unless…_

_A jolt of alarm spears his mark. It reminds Crow of when Yuusei was accidentally broadcasting his fear and doubt to the rest of them, only this time, the crash of confusion comes from Jack. It's like a tidal wave, smashing into him with such force that it sends him reeling. Crow swears loudly – he doesn't care who hears him – and he bolts, flinging the door open wide. The handle hits the wall with a loud __**crack**__. Oops. He hopes it doesn't leave a dent – Zola still doesn't like him all that much, and wanton vandalism of her property will hardly help endear him to her._

"_Oi," he calls, "Yuusei! Wake up! Jack is—" _

…_what? Crow doesn't actually know, but it's too much of a coincidence. Geoglyphs in the sky, Jack disappearing in the middle of the night, his Mark burning crimson. He can't think how to describe the sense of unease, so settles for pounding on Yuusei's door with his good arm – although his cast has been removed, the injured shoulder still hurts if he uses it too much. "Yuusei!"_

_When no reply comes, he tries the door in impatience. To his surprise it swings open without resistance. The room is illuminated by a soft glow from a lamplight; Yuusei is sitting near it, head bowed over his private workbench like a penitent in some Western-style church; stepping inside, Crow realises that the older teen is asleep, arms folded to cushion his head against the hard surface._

_This isn't the time for a nap!_

"_Yuusei," Crow repeats, voice tinged with irritation. He takes care to avoid the tools and various metal objects scattered across the floor as he crosses to Yuusei's side. How many times must he repeat himself before Yuusei gets the message? "Wake up, man, it's serious."_

_A half-hearted murmur comes in reply, and Yuusei finally begins to stir. He lifts his head, neck protesting with a loud crack; wincing, he regards Crow through sleep-blurred eyes. "S'something wrong?"_

_Crow opens his mouth, about to make a smart comeback when his arm starts to throb. Yuusei's mark is pulsating to the same rhythm. Biting back a stream of colourful language, Crow almost flies to the window, throwing it open in such haste that a twinge of protest shivers through his shoulder. _

"_How can this—?"_

_Yup, it's a bird all right. The Hummingbird, to be precise – he recognises the shape from pictures of the Nazca lines. Crow can't remember who was associated with that jibakushin. He never saw her – the others claim it was a woman, orange and black, identity unknown. But the principle still stands. Somehow a Dark Signer has been revived. The one Jack fought a year ago. It explains why he would drive off in the middle of the night without telling anyone. It's his battle. His problem._

…_that's complete and utter bu—_

—cracks ! Cracks in the world around him, jagged, slashing through memory and shattered stone and the pale smudge of Yuusei's face and fingers pressing something into his hand, and he's failing, falling…!

* * *

A chill crawled up his right arm, as though a needle of ice had been jabbed into the centre of his mark. So _cold_. Crow's eyes snapped open, and he instinctively twisted to seek out a clock. 8:34 am – he'd been asleep for almost five hours, and with a glance around the waiting room he realised he was alone. The red lines itched under his jacket sleeve. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Blazing geoglyphs and screeching tyres. Dark Signer. Death. Jack, who could be lying in a morgue by now—_Idiot, he isn't gonna die, don't you go giving up on him!_

His palm itched. Crow looked down at it in confusion, and lifted the appendage so he could see better. The heel of his hand was raw and pink with healing skin. There had been no mark when he fell asleep. So did that mean… that was real? Jack was walking away from them? Or was it a …'_simile_'?

Crow preferred it when his dreams were just that: dreams. This vision stuff was Ruka's field of expertise, not his…

…he would have to consult the others about it. One of them would surely figure out if it meant anything. But Jack was his main concern now. Stupid, sleeping for so long. For all he knew Jack could be awake by now! He refused to acknowledge that alternate possibility. His brother would never give up on life. Never, ever.

Crow stood and left the room, oblivious to the crumpled piece of paper – grubby with age, most likely scrounged from the bottom of a pocket and so shabby it was almost as soft as cloth – that fell to the floor behind him. Five minutes later, a passing nurse spotted the note. She deposited it in a nearby waste bin, not bothering to check what it said.

Nobody noticed when a young boy walked past and fished it out again. Nobody noticed him walk round a corner and consult its secrets with a frown.

And nobody was there to see him vanish.

* * *

By the end of the day, the rumours would spread like wildfire. Jack Atlus in hospital, Izayoi Aki taken away by Security, the twins in Team 5D's pit crew vanishing over lunch; all this accompanied by a chorus of scant facts and rampant speculation from the media, whipping Duel Academy's student population into a buzzing frenzy as the story was revisited, retold, embellished, never once drawing close to the truth.

_If_ Aki had known, she would never have allowed Yuusei to persuade her and the twins to pretend, to the best of their ability, that things were normal – nobody wanted the media dogging their footsteps, especially when the team was still trying to organise its own investigation. Naturally, abnormality would have entailed skipping school – something she sorely missed. As it was, she was left stranded in a too-warm classroom, barely paying attention to the lecturer, as she alternated between casting furtive looks at her mobile on the off chance that she might receive a message and scribbling down notes in the margins of her paper. Notes that, should anyone care to look at her "work", would betray nothing; in fact they were vague enough that most people would think she was simply trying her hand at a plotline for a _doujinshi_. Aki was hardly known for her prodigious abilities at understanding Physics, and that was on her good days.

The screen of her mobile lit up, accompanied by the animation of a flying envelope. Normally there would be a melodic chime, but she'd turned that off almost immediately. She couldn't risk detection. Aki glanced at the lecturer, who was in the process of explaining some law of Physics she could make neither heads nor tails of – then again, she could expect nothing else from not paying attention. Nobody was looking her way, so she opened the message.

Crow. It was obvious just from scanning over it – Yuusei had a habit of writing out exact words, whereas Crow sent messages composed in hiragana and katakana, and usually riddled with mistakes.

_bad news not awake :( quack worried perhaps root crops_

Mistakes like that one – he typed too quickly, and muddled his kana far too often. Aki pressed Reply and typed in a return message: _Do you mean 'coma'?_

Barely thirty seconds after, another flying envelope flashed into view: _sorry yeah that even _

She sighed and dropped the mobile back onto her lap. She wasn't close to Jack, not in the same way as with Yuusei and the twins and lately even Crow – it was like he resisted all attempts people made to reach out to him – but he was a part of her _nakama_ regardless. Picking up her pen, she started to scribble furious spirals in the margins of her paper. They ended up looking more like monkey tails. Moving on to vague squiggles was no relief. The ghosts of the past still lingered: condors, lizards, spiders, all peering out at her through otherwise indeterminate scrawls. Aki scrubbed through them with thick black lines. Now they languished behind bars, caged, just like they were supposed to be.

The air of the lecture theatre was stifling. Summer was her least favourite of seasons; the air grew too close and humid for her liking, which left her craving autumn and crisp ocean breezes. Aki cast a longing gaze at the clock, willing it to creep closer to eleven – and freedom. There would be a two-hour study period for the upper classes between eleven and one, which a surprising number used to escape the school environment. She _had_ wanted to use it to try and catch up on some of the sleep she lost the previous night, but…

Another glimpse of the animation, and she opened this like all the others, dreading what it might say. It was nothing she could have possibly expected.

_Yuusei just called Security want speak w/ you _

Five minutes later she was still trying to puzzle that one over – if Yuusei wanted to talk to her then why not send a message himself? unless something prevented him from doing so – when three heavy knocks sounded against the door. Attention shattered, the entire class turned as one entity in the direction of the silhouette, which was broad-shouldered and dark against the frosted glass. Aki frowned and returned the mobile to the briefcase leaning against her legs. With people jogged out of their mid-morning stupor, there was no chance she could continue replying to Yuusei and Crow's sporadic messages _and_ remain undetected.

"Who is it?" the lecturer demanded peevishly, striding across the room like a twitchy, oversized weasel. It was a miracle he avoided walking through his desk – when agitated or excited, Tanaka-sensei had a habit of moving with such vivacity it exhausted the students just to look at him. "Enter!"

With a rattle of hinges the door opened, and a tall man stepped over the threshold of the lecture theatre. His jacket was slung casually over one shoulder. She recognised him immediately. "I'm here on the behalf of Security," Ushio said, holding up his I.D. to verify the claim, "is Izayoi Aki present?"

The buzz of whispers that broke out irritated her ears, and she fisted her hands around the hem of her skirt. Tanaka-sensei coughed, plunging the room into silence – broken only by the rustle of paper as conversations were continued on notes. "Izayoi-san, if you please!"

"Y-yes," she replied, stuffing books back into her briefcase without ceremony or care, "I'm here, Ushio-san." Fortunately she sat at the end of a row, so making her way to the front of the class would not disturb the other students – not, she thought somewhat bitterly, that they could possibly concentrate after this.

A flash of blue behind Ushio's shoulder. Bruno. Relief rose within her, the tiny glimpse of a teammate enough to remind herself that she was not alone, and had done nothing wrong. The knowledge encouraged her, and she held her head a little higher as she reached the front. Ushio moved aside. Aki offered him a small, tight-lipped smile and joined Bruno in the corridor.

The door swung shut behind them, stifling the hum of excitement that swelled out of the unnatural hush; it simultaneously cut off Tanaka-sensei's reedy admonishments, leaving them with only the background whir of a fan.

"Ushio-san?" she asked, "What's…"

"There's a car waiting outside," he said, striding down the corridor – she and Bruno hurried along in his wake, sharing worried glances behind his broad back. "Don't worry, you aren't in any sort of trouble. We just need to you answer some questions for us about what happened last night."

"I thought you had a witness," Bruno protested, scandalised – his dull grey eyes shimmered with confusion, and for a moment Aki thought she saw a flicker of green. Blue hair flopped across his face, and he brushed the bangs away with long-suffering patience. Aki simply concentrated on walking. A year ago, thoughts of following a Security officer anywhere would have set her nerves on edge immediately – the Black Rose Witch could trust no-one, especially not the authorities; they would have arrested her the moment they learned who she was. But she trusted Ushio-san, who not only knew of her identity (even though somehow, a significant proportion of the City's population had seemingly forgotten; she wondered if the memory warping of Iliaster had something to do with it) but never judged for it. He treated her the same way he treated Yuusei and Crow, as somebody who had made choices that went contrary to the law, and had reformed. For that she would always be grateful.

"We do," Ushio said, "but her testimony would be considered… unreliable… under the circumstances. As Izayoi-san was the one to alert Security, we need to find out if her account of events – what she was able to sense, that is – and the witness' match up."

"But…"

Aki shook her head, breaking into the conversation. She glanced at Bruno. The mechanic stared back, voice trailing into a disquieted hush. "The others won't know. I was shielding them from the worst of it." Admittedly she had no idea _how_ – she'd only wanted to prevent Ruka from collapsing under the barrage of emotion which had surged unchecked across the birthmarks – but the fact remained that she _had_. "Please, can we finish this conversation when we get there?" the young woman asked, dreading the prospect of explaining what she barely understood.

Ushio nodded brusquely, his furrowed brow betraying anxiety and frustration. He respected Aki's request, however, and opened the door of a standard Security-issue vehicle to her. She thanked him with a low murmur, scooting over to the far window, Bruno folding his tall frame into the other passenger seat with his usual awkward gawkiness. Grey eyes studied her for a moment. His mouth moved, a fragment of a question rising on his tongue, and Aki felt her fingers fist around her skirt once more – a nervous gesture she dearly wished she could rid herself of. There, in his eyes, lurked a haunted, alien consciousness, something she could not recognise…

Then Ushio's door slammed shut, severing the tension between them. Bruno jerked upright as though stung. His gaze snapped to the front of the vehicle. Letting her head fall against the laminated glass window, Aki swallowed and took deep breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart. For a moment… she had felt almost _afraid_ of the mechanic, her friend, whose eyes shone so blank and timeless.

She curled into the car door, head falling against the window again with a dull thud. _Please_, Aki thought, _just get this over with. Please._

Eyes drifting shut, she spent the next forty minutes in a daze of wishing she had said more.

* * *

The room they led her to was neat and rather Spartan – a table, four chairs, a screen on one wall for communication purposes and in the furthest corner, a potted plant. That would be Mikage's influence, no doubt, softening the otherwise austere surroundings. Two files rested on the table: one lay thick, the edges of ripped photographs and the plastic wallet housing what she knew to be a broken camera chip peeking out (she remembered too clearly the stricken look in Jack's eyes when they found it, and the ruined camera nearby); the other file was painfully slim. It was this second, thinner file that lay open, a woman's blue-haired head bent over it as her pen scurried across paper. The door swung shut, hinges silent – well oiled – heavy thump, a sound which the seated woman could not fail to hear. "Please, Aki-san, take a seat…" Mikage gestured to a chair absently, so absorbed in her work that she didn't even look up.

Placing her briefcase on the floor, leant up against the table leg, Aki slid into the proffered chair and folded her hands on her lap. Bruno took the one to her left; Ushio ignored the remaining chair and stood by a wall, arms folded and a deep frown etched into his face. His eyebrows were thick, bushy caterpillars, almost meeting over the bridge of his nose.

The minutes stretched into the silence like hours, ticking past like the trickle of footsteps on a flight of stairs. An analogue clock hung over the door - Aki couldn't look at it without making her actions obvious, but she could hear its slow and steady tick, tock, tick. Sometimes they sounded louder in the unnatural hush. The noise was distracting, but almost relaxing in its own way. It kept her mind from the uncertainty of the future, both immediate – what did they want to ask her? why was the "witness" unreliable? – and distant, Jack's ghost lingering around her like a funerary shroud.

She caught her thoughts before they could reach their logical conclusion, and a white-hot burst of shame shuddered through her. Jack wasn't dead, and Jack wouldn't die. He couldn't die. They needed to remember that.

"I trust you've been informed of the purpose of this interview," Mikage said in a voice tense with authority, interrupting Aki's train of thought. She had yet to lift her head, jotting down one more annotation on the page in front of her.

"Yes." Glancing to her left, Aki curled her fingers around the slip of paper in her blazer pocket – the mechanic had slipped it to her midway through the journey – which explained what she could expect. Legally, being only seventeen, she could not be questioned without her parents' or a guardian's presence… but there was the slight issue of her parents not being around: Papa was required for work elsewhere, so Aki suggested that Mama go with him, give them a chance to be alone without their teenage daughter being around; they still phoned most nights to check she was okay. Hard to believe that only a year ago she'd been convinced of their eternal hatred… but she couldn't allow herself to be distracted. A glance to her left reminded her of Bruno's presence. He had volunteered to take the role of supervisor, since he was the only person close enough in age.

Not the only person. Jack was twenty. That absent thought brought the sadness roaring back.

At last came the click of pen meeting wood. Mikage looked up.

"Please describe for us the events that took place last night, when you contacted Security."

Aki nodded, her throat constricting. "It was … just gone midnight, I think. The twins were already asleep, and I just finished working on an essay when I noticed it. The geoglyph, that is, hanging out over the duel lanes. The Signers know when one of us is in danger – but you already know that don't you? – though at first I couldn't feel anything out of the ordinary."

Pen darting over a fresh piece of paper, the woman prompted, "What then?"

"Well…" She inhaled deeply, let the air escape in a rush. "It's… hard to explain. I'd gone outside to see if I could see the geoglyph more clearly, figure out which one it was, when I felt—almost a tidal wave of emotion through my mark. I remember anger, confusion…fear… it was too much to handle for a moment. Ruka woke up and was calling out his—Jack's, that is—his name; she just knew it was him, even though he was so far away…

"I'm not doing a very good job of this, am I?"

Ushio opened his mouth to answer, only for his partner to shake her head, _don't_. It was understandable for Aki to be distressed, she seemed to be saying. "Please continue. We may need to ask for clarification but for now, the outline is sufficient. Now, why did you contact Security?"

Aki admired the older woman's ability to put her personal feelings aside to concentrate on the case, and attempted to do the same. "I recognised the geoglyph," she said, drawing on year-old memories of a barren dusty landscape, "it was the Hummingbird. Jack faced that Dark Signer last year, I remember. Last night—At first, he wasn't dueling – it was somebody else, I don't know who – but his anger had become… more focussed, I suppose. Before it had been a blade without an edge, and something had strengthened his resolve. Turned his anger into a drive to, well, do something.

"He wanted to protect. I could feel what he was thinking, that if the Dark Signer was on the duel lanes, then there would be innocent people getting caught up in it - so I called Security. I thought that would be the best way to keep people out of danger, because you'd be able to close down the lanes and divert people away from the geoglyph. Just in case the jibakushin was summoned. But I wanted to protect Jack too. I was scared that if he entered the geoglyph he'd get himself hurt."

Of course, he had managed that anyway. Aki kept those words to herself; they sounded too much like an accusation. "He entered the duel. I should have guessed he would – he bypassed the geoglyph before, when he saved those two little boys of Martha's. At that time, when he started to duel, our marks lit up properly and… Jack never hesitated, not once. He knew what he was doing. Despite the risks, he'd made his decision. Nothing anyone could have done would change it. Even if we had been there."

Silence dominated the next few minutes. Aki shifted in her seat, unable to relax under the weight of expectation. There. She had said it. Faced the truth. The Signers were powerless to protect their own, should they be scattered across the City like they'd been last night.

"We understand you were the last person Jack spoke to last night?"

Aki tried to nod, but her body was too tense to complete the movement. "Yes," she said quietly, attempting to quash her nervousness, "I was at the garage yesterday evening. The whole team was. We were celebrating the victory over Team Taiyo, but Jack seemed… I don't know. It was like his mind had wandered off somewhere."

"He's been like that a lot, recently," Bruno interjected from next to her – she damped the flicker of surprise that his voice ignited, having almost forgotten he was there. "Ever since he returned from Peru and… well. You know," he nodded towards the first, thicker file, the one that so far had been ignored. Aki had no idea what the mechanic was talking about.

Mikage's eyes flickered, and a troubled look passed between her and Ushio. The pen scratched over paper, brisk businesslike strokes punctuated with heavy pauses.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Aki continued, "I tried to ask him about… about what was happening, but he didn't want to talk at all. This was just before nine – he'd gone outside saying he wanted air, had been out there for at least ten minutes. We were beginning to worry about him. He's been so distant. Even when it was just us, nobody to interrupt, he refused to tell me what was wrong. Jack's just like that, isn't he? So infuriatingly _stubborn_…"

Her voice trailed off, the sound of a disturbance filtering into the room: Crow's voice, rising in a blaze of temper from the hall beyond, angry, frightened, bewildered. Ushio excused himself and left, a pained expression etching itself deeper into his care-worn brow. He seemed to have aged ten years overnight. Bruno threw worried glances between Aki and the direction the ruckus came from, before deciding that whatever Crow's outburst was aimed at outside needed his attention more. Fumbling an apology, the blue-haired man hurried after Ushio. The door slammed shut behind them. Silence fell, broken only by the clock's continued pulse of _tick, tock, tick_.

Eventually, Mikage spoke. Her calm was beginning to falter. Aki questioned the sanity of Director Jaegar's move – because it bore all the hallmarks of his influence. Putting Mikage in charge of the investigation, when one considered her emotional attachment to the man at its heart…

"…I'm afraid we must ask a favour of you, Aki-san."

She nodded slowly. "Your eyewitness?"

Mikage hesitated for a moment before pulling the thicker file towards her, out of which she took two pieces of paper. One was a photograph, its edges whole and undamaged – there was a date stamped in one corner, that day's. The other was a hand-written page. She pushed them towards Aki in such a way that the photograph was mostly obscured from sight. The Signer picked each up in turn, unable to comprehend their significance.

The handwriting was unfamiliar, a hurried, barely-legible scrawl spattered with watery stains; the image wore shadows of orange and black. She peered closer in a half-hearted attempt to decipher the woman's identity, and her breath caught, tying knots in her throat. "This is impossible," she whispered. "Impossible…!"

Carly Nagisa's face swam into focus behind the obvious hallmarks of a Dark Signer; Aki had only interacted with the older woman on a cursory basis, could count their conversations on one hand, but although she hardly knew Carly the transformation from reporter to agent of destruction was remarkable. The differences were small – a lack of glasses, the blemish under one eye, a heavy sadness – but for all that, they remained blindingly obscure. Only somebody who knew her, _really_ knew her, could make that instant connection.

"Aki-san?" Mikage leaned forwards. "If there is _anything_ you can tell us, then please—If it could help with the investigation…" Her expression was unguarded, and Aki knew just by looking at her: there were personal reasons behind this quest for truth. Mikage loved Jack…

…but Jack didn't love _her_. With a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, Aki realised a truth she should have seen long before: a foggy, Satellite night heralding the start of their war against the Dark Signers, Jack's sudden sharp intake of breath before he pursued a flicker of orange and black, the instant connection he had made – it was so obvious now! She knew what had to be done.

"I don't know." _Sorry, Mikage-san, but there are some secrets that need to be kept_. Replacing the photograph on the table, she tried to ignore the agitation of guilt that started to churn with her necessary deception. "But… if Jack was dueling alongside her, then I doubt that Carly is any danger to this city. So long as the jibakushin remains dormant there'll be nothing to worry about…"

Something in the air shifted, a ripple, like something dropped into the fabric of time. Or maybe memory. Aki felt it flutter-light against her mind, and reached out to Mikage on instinct. Her fingers brushed against the older woman's, a faint pressure. Under her sleeve, red lines itched.

Mikage was oblivious to the ripple of history's changing; she noticed nothing but the oddity of Aki's gesture. Evidently confused, she pulled her arm away and started reorganising her notes, just to avoid the tedium of waiting.

"…it'll work out," Aki said, moving the offending hand back to her side of the table. The spell of rapport had broken under her hasty gesture. Now the atmosphere in the room hung heavy over her, just as thick and uncomfortable as when she first entered.

"I think this is everything we need." Mikage kept her gaze fixed on her papers. "Thank you for your cooperation, Aki-san. You may go now."

She stood, chair scraping, and leant down to collect her briefcase. The clock read 12:08. She wouldn't return to school today, Aki decided; _I'll be of more use at the garage,_ she thought, even though logically she'd be unable to help with the mechanical dilemma Yuusei and Bruno were bound to be facing. At the very least, she could make sure they took proper care of themselves.

Could Security do the same thing for Carly? Could they keep her safe—from the outside, and from herself? In a burst of clarity, Aki wondered whether Iliaster would continue to pursue Carly. Especially now she was a Dark Signer again. She paused, fingers curled around the door-handle, and glanced back at the photograph which Mikage was in the process of filing away along with the notes she had taken. The heavy sadness Carly wore might turn into self-loathing, depression. Thoughts of herself as a monster. Aki knew that pain. For Carly's sake – and for Jack, who _loved her_ (it was all so obvious now) – she would do all in her power to alleviate that darkness.

"I'm staying with the twins for the moment. We thought it would be safer that way." Yes – safe from the omnipresent threat of Iliaster, and the uncertainty of who would become their next objective. The team had expected Crow, or Aki herself, to be the chosen target. Nobody had considered it might be _Jack_; because why else would Carly be abducted, if not to get to him? "If Rua and Ruka agree, then she can stay with us. It might be a bit… uncomfortable… but I'm sure we can manage."

Mikage answered with a vague murmur, one that could have been either assent or dismissal. Her eyes were invisible under the barrier of her hair. Aki dipped her head, excused herself, stepped out into the corridor. She hoped Mikage saw the logic of housing a Dark Signer with two Signers. For now, she had to wait. And hope.

* * *

At 15:41, she received her ninth flying envelope of the day. It said simply, _Yes._

* * *

"Just _do_ something…"

Watching her was beginning to get boring. Bo-_ring_. Even more dull than José sitting around being contemplative all the time, and Plácido sulking because his plans didn't work, and nothing of _interest_ happening because the idiot just had to go and get the WRGP postponed. At least that one had changed now. Still. Idiot.

What was she even doing down there? She'd been sitting in front of her candle for at least half an hour, out in the darkness next to that huge ornamental pond, completely oblivious to her surroundings. It was only because of the presence of the three people inside that Lucciano had yet to act. The sword was heavy in his hands. He couldn't put it down, though. Not without making a sound, and he didn't want to be noticed.

Well. Maybe he did, but only on his own terms. She'd almost killed José. For that, she would pay.

She _had _to pay!

She moved. Her duel disk shifted into its active mode with a whir of Momentum. Gritting his teeth, Lucciano crouched low on the roof, blending in as best as he could against the dark tiles. Had she—oh. Darn. She hadn't seen him, but the instinctive duck drew a flicker of attention to his patch of roof. She was wary now. Her gaze drifted across the roofline, seeking out any anomaly among the shadows. Stupid. With the way she'd been staring at that candle, her eyes would be dotted with afterimages.

She didn't have her glasses either. He'd taken care of that three weeks ago.

Perhaps she didn't need them.

Perhaps she already knew he was there.

…Screw that. She was going to die anyway, so what did it matter if she was aware of her impending death five minutes or five _seconds_ in advance?

If José hadn't hidden the extent of his injuries until their return to relative safety, Lucciano would have killed her when he first had the chance. None of this waiting around – he hated waiting. He hated _her_. She wasn't even a good actress, so how had she fooled them all so easily? Unless being a Dark Signer meant multiple personality disorders, it shouldn't have been possible.

He'd trusted her, as much as he could trust anyone whose name was neither José nor Plácido. Well. He hadn't trusted _her_, rather had been convinced by prolonged observation that she was harmless. And maybe he _had_ been a little concerned when she started gripping her head and muttering disjointed sentences that didn't add up… but that was only because the information she held was so vital.

Really, it was.

Shush.

Ignorant of his tumultuous thoughts, she turned back to the candle, prising her deck from her duel disk and spreading the cards into a fan. Forty cards exactly. Most of them were coloured purple and green. No white of a Synchro. Only seven orange cards interspersed among the magic and traps. Surely she couldn't expect to duel competently with such a limited deck—

—Oh. Now _this_ was a little more interesting.

Lucciano watched, using his eyepiece to gain a closer view, as the woman chose a card from her deck. Her jibakushin – Aslla piscu. The remaining thirty-nine, she replaced in her duel disk. She held the card in her left hand, staring at it long and hard. The water seemed to shiver with anticipation, and a wisp of purple flickered through the candle flame. _What is she doing?_ Lucciano wondered, careful not to make a sound as he shifted out of his crouch. Despite his care, the sword skittered against the roof with a sound like nails on a blackboard, only muted.

Carly Nagisa scarcely noticed. With a convulsive gasp and a flick of her wrist, she dropped the card onto the candle flame. At first nothing happened. Then the corners began to shrivel and blacken, just like her tainted, evil heart.

He stood, knuckles white around the sword's hilt. The corners of his mouth twitched into a sneer. No laughter. Not this night.

Tonight was revenge.

Lucciano pounced.

Carly Nagisa, knelt on the ground in front of her candle, turned in time to see the flash of a descending blade. Her eyes went wide with shock. She lifted an arm to ward off the inevitable blow, her left arm. Half-stood, still holding her arm up as a shield, in what seemed like an attempt to disrupt his strike. The draconic teeth decorating the mouth of her duel disk glittered in the light spilling from nearby windows.

The resulting impact, metal on metal, sent reverberations shuddering up the sword and into his arms.

Lucciano cursed, one foot touching the ground – he'd lost the height advantage – and made a clumsy movement almost like a pirouette. It freed Plácido's sword from the deadlock, and a roller-bladed foot struck her unprotected side. She let out a gasp, swallowed in a harsh yelp. Lucciano sprang back, trying to gain enough distance to manage another strike before the three occupants of the apartment reached them – damnit, the doors opened _inwards_, he'd thought they were closed. He hadn't been able to see them from his rooftop perch. This plan was beginning to spiral out of control, and Lucciano gritted his teeth in frustration. He _had_ to be in control! It was that bastard Rua's trap all over again; he could feel the surge of white-hot fury coursing through him, a fog across his ability to reason. So be it – if it let him kill Nagisa.

The candle blazed purple, spitting out the singed card. "No," she whispered, as her arm started to burn with the cold fire. "Why can't I destroy you?"

Lucciano lunged again, anger giving him focus. He didn't care what she was trying to do – it involved the jibakushin, and he had to get rid of her before she could do any more damage. To the Emperors. To the Circuit. Even to the Signers. José said they needed the Signers to muster the required energy and Lucciano believed him, even if Plácido didn't.

She lifted her arm in an attempt to defend herself again. Her movements were sluggish, almost like it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to make her body move. Hah! Pathetic. This was a Dark Signer? _This_ was what had almost killed José?_ He must be getting soft in his old age…!_

Purple fire exploded in the space between them. Nagisa cried out in alarm, and something struck him full across the chest with enough force to send him flying backwards. His head cracked against a wall. His vision swam, blurred, and for a single agonising moment the world was reduced to a blaze of colour: the violent, passionate red of pain, a sensation he seldom experienced; throbbing cobalt disbelief; a flicker of brown, there and gone again so fast it was surely confusion; angry, churning violet darkening to the hue of storm clouds.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the film of saline coating his eye, and wished he hadn't. Nagisa was walking towards him, body wrapped in darkness. It coiled and writhed around her like a nest of serpents. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Lucciano understood the meaning of the word "fear". There was nothing human in her eyes. No life. No mercy. The sword hung from her left hand, blade gleaming.

How interesting. He had no memory of dropping it.

"Go on then," he goaded, wincing as he tried to sit up properly. Huh. There were two of her. Must have hit his head harder than he thought. Somebody called his name. Ruka-chan. She was trying to run to him, the fool. Had she already forgotten how he tried to kill her – and her worthless brother too? But the woman – Izayoi, he thought – obstructed her path, and Rua clung to her arm in an effort to hold her back.

So even the Signers, naively ignorant as they were of the dangers the Machine Emperors posed, cowered in fear of their dark counterpart. Lucciano managed a lopsided grin, tracing the soulless depths of Nagisa's empty gaze. It was such a shame. They could have used her.

Slowly, a smile began to unfurl across her lips, a glimmer of emotion playing across her otherwise vacant expression; the slight curve was almost triumphant. She had won. He'd underestimated her.

She'd fucking _won_, and she was just standing there, staring down at him like he wasn't even worth the time of day.

"Eh? What's wrong, can't even lift that sword? You're _pathetic_. Go on. It's what you want, right? You want to kill me." The mocking grin never faded from Lucciano's face, despite the tendrils of dis-ease wrapping around his heart.

"…no."

She said that but raised the sword regardless, so that it hovered mere inches away from the bridge of his nose. Liquid salt glimmered on the side of her face. Carly Nagisa was still in there? no, he was imagining things. Nagisa was dead. Gone. The thing in front of him was merely a husk.

Black eyes closed for a moment, and the blade flashed. Lucciano instinctively flinched. Ruka gasped and buried her face in her hands; Rua stared in horror as a thin thread of crimson trickled over steel.

…wasn't dying supposed to, you know, _hurt_?

Disbelieving, Lucciano stared up at the Dark Signer. One eye still clung to its black sclera, but the other – the one from which tears leaked, disgustingly, wondrously _human_ – glimmered with life.

_I heard her,_ he thought wildly, incapable of deciphering her elusive smile, _she wanted to die, but now she's fighting, why? Why did she beg José to kill her if she doesn't even want to die?_

"Get out," she said. The sword trembled in her hand, cold steel shivering over warm, pliant flesh. Her arm bled. She was holding the blade against it – no, more than that. Not just holding it there. What was she doing? "This is my body and _you_ can't have it."

This Carly Nagisa sounded nothing like the one whose pleas still echoed in his ears—

—"_It's the God inside me," she sobs, clutching her head in her hands and staring up at the silent man, pathetic, eyes mismatched, "it's trying to take me over… Please, José, just kill me!"—_

—he shook himself mentally, dislodging the fragment of memory before it blinded him to what was happening. Pain stabbed through his head.

A struggle was painted in her eyes, a battle they could hear only one side of. "Do you remember Rudger? He cut off his arm to escape the mark, and it worked. I'll do it. I'll cut it off if you don't _get out of my head_!"

_**Fool… you would seek to defy me?**_

"Yes," she answered without hesitation, ignoring the surprised gasps of the Signers – not at her threat, but at the dark voice that whispered like thunder across the rooftop. "You won't use me anymore." The blade juddered and nudged a little deeper into the fragile barrier of skin, just above the blackness of her glove. She hissed, softly, despite herself. It was no empty threat. If the jibakushin tried to possess her again… well, even if she failed to sever the limb completely, enough damage would be done. The arm would be rendered near useless.

Sheer freaking _genius_, although he'd admit to still being perplexed by her contradictions… and was that the girl or the jibakushin in charge? He couldn't tell where one began and the other ended.

Either way, the dark creature recognised the strength of her resolve. It let out a screech that set Lucciano's nerves on fire. Exhilaration pounded through his veins, combined with a heady dose of adrenalin and the overwhelming instinct to flee. He was unable to move. Izayoi shouted something rendered inaudible by the unearthly wail, while the youngest of the Signers fell to her knees, trembling. Nagisa's head snapped back, as though struck by an invisible force, and the sword clattered to the tiles. He could almost touch it… but something held him back. Something made him hesitate. Even though he could end it, there and then. He only had to pick it up and drive the point home, sheathing steel in flesh, oiling it with a crimson sheen…

His vision blurred again as another spike of pain drilled through his skull. This time he could not resist against the insistent tug of unconsciousness, and he barely remembered to get _away_ before oblivion folded him into its silent embrace.

* * *

A/N: Coma: can be written as konsui; root crops: konsai. There's only one kana different when written in hiragana, hence Crow getting them muddled.

I use "jibakushin" in place of Earthbound God simply because it's what I'm most comfortable/familiar with. Hopefully this isn't an issue for you!~

~Now the action is picking up. I hope people are enjoying this! If there's anything you liked – or think could have gone better – please, let me know. I allow anonymous reviews if you don't have an account or don't have time to log in. ^_^

There are parts of this I'm not too happy with, so don't be surprised if, a couple weeks down the line, parts of Chapters 1 & 2 are revisited and revised.

Oh, and most importantly of all: yes, I do love torturing Jack. Of the three (now four) fics of mine he's featured in, however briefly, he's died, crashed, watched a friendship fall apart… This time he's in a coma. The only fic he was safe in was the humour one… huh. Then again, I like torturing my favourites in general. (As Jen has already picked up on… perhaps it _isn't_ a Janime thing. It's just me. After all, I'm a Giftshipper – that has to account for something.)


	3. Shadows of the Forgotten

A/N: Sorry for the delay; I've _literally_ just emerged from the murky bog of university essays (I love them to bits, however, it does impact on the time I have available to write) and then migrating 200 odd miles to 'home'. Cannot guarantee that this is my best work, but I don't want to sit on it for too much longer lest it stagnate. I don't like algae all that much.

And with the advent of 11-10-10's episode (#134) I will probably spend quite a bit of time rethinking the Parts!verse, seeing if I can make it work alongside the information revealed. Because I do like sticking to canon where possible. So… Rising Signs is probably exiling itself from the Parts!verse in favour of mostly-canon!verse. And expect to see the Moments referencing themselves in here. Expect that a lot...

* * *

Chapter 3: Shadows of the Forgotten

_

* * *

It's a long way down. No end in sight. I wonder: will this hurt? But of course it won't. If you think about it, it seems a little obvious. After all, I'm…_

_There's so much I could tell you. So much I could share. So many memories that sound like something ripped from a novel, dangerous, surreal. I could, you know. I could tell you all about it, if I wanted. Perhaps you don't believe me. Perhaps you think I'm mad. Hah! This isn't madness. I can tell you that for sure. I just know what it's like to fall—forever. _

_Do you?_

* * *

Entering the garage, it seemed as though she could barely move for D-Wheels – five of them, three of which covered with tarpaulins and parked as close to the stairway as possible. The remaining two sat in the middle of the garage, attached by wires and cabling to a wide array of digital devices which drained the D-Wheels of very last scrap of information they held. Progress bars flashed up on the screens, blinking furiously, vanished again. It surprised Aki that the room stood devoid of life, and for a moment she stared around, half-expecting a shaggy blue head to make his way downstairs, or the quiet young man whose D-Wheels were his life-blood to step out from where he'd been meddling with some feature or another on one of the covered machines.

"Yuusei?"

She received no reply. Aki descended the ramp into the main room, gazing at the battered Wheel of Fortune. Its scars served as a reminder of the empty space in their hearts. Strangely, the extent of the damage seemed less severe now she looked at it under the light of day. Without the smudge-marks of smoke or dark stains – Bruno never could stand working with a dirty D-Wheel – it looked almost normal, if maltreated. Not much worse than when Jack crashed in their duel against Team Unicorn.

"Aki, what are you doing here?"

She turned around. Crow's voice. He was standing at the top of the stairs, barefoot, his hair dripping water. A towel hung from his hand. He'd just come from the shower, she guessed; thankfully he'd had the presence of mind to throw a shirt on first. "It's only… what, half seven? Not even that. We weren't expecting you 'til later."

"Where's Yuusei? And Bruno?"

"They're out," Crow said, wrapping the towel around his head in a wonky approximation of a turban. Aki almost missed the pained skitter of his gaze as he tried to avoid looking at the Wheel of Fortune. "Listen, I'll be back in a moment. We can talk then. Do you want to come upstairs? It's a bit of a mess, but anything's better than waiting around down here."

"…sure." She smiled up at him in reassurance; when he vanished back into the living quarters, she laid a hand on the side of Jack's D-Wheel to remind herself of its reality. Jack would recover; he had to. Yet… through his absence, it seemed she was coming to understand Jack more than ever…

Aki took the stairs two at a time. Her eyes were met by what appeared to be chaos. Papers strewn everywhere – and they'd only tidied them yesterday evening – a pile of dishes by the sink – well, at least they'd not forgotten to eat – the couch shifted out of position – a chair lying on its side – Bruno's tools scattered across the coffee table – Jack's coat lying in a corner like an afterthought. She started there, picking a path through the minefield of paper. His coat was surprisingly heavy in her hands when she lifted it. Folding it over her arm, she let her fingers drift over the collar – it was just a garment, lacking in majesty without its owner. Leaving it out here seemed disrespectful. How had they missed it yesterday evening?

She cast a look around the room. Fortunately the chaos appeared mostly cosmetic. It wouldn't take long for them to tidy up. First, though… dealing with Jack's coat. She wasn't certain which his room was, but of the two shut doors (Yuusei's stood ajar; the tools gave him away) she could hear movement behind one, Crow hurrying to make himself presentable.

Her hand descended on the doorknob of the third room. Turned it, stepped over the threshold, wondered at how neat the room appeared in comparison to other parts of the apartment. The only signs of previous habitation were the covers of his bed, rumpled and thrown aside from his hasty departure. Hard to believe it had already been thirty-two hours since he'd vanished from the garage. Hard to believe that the world was still turning, time tumbling onwards for the world outside, while for the team it stood still. Aki straightened the covers, laid the coat across them like an offering at a shrine, returning a part of Jack to the lifeless room. He had done nothing to customise it - simply a bed, the patterned wallpaper (she didn't think much of Zola's taste), a closet that was standard in all the bedrooms, a cabinet… and on top of the cabinet, a pair of glasses.

Carly's glasses.

What was it like, Aki wondered, to have the person you love beyond your grasp, not even knowing whether they were dead or not. At least… with Divine, the first time, she'd been certain of his death. Had witnessed his fall from a shattered pedestal – the leader, vanquished. She still thought of him more fondly than she ought, despite knowing all the terrible acts he'd committed in pursuit of Arcadia. And then that brought the sickening guilt of the Yuusei situation rushing back – Yuusei, she knew he would never betray her trust like Divine had – but if she loved him so much, then why did Divine still haunt her?

It was all too frustrating. Aki brushed the thoughts aside. She swept out of the room with her head held high, fingers straying to her gloves, tugging impatiently at the decorative bracelets as she slid them down over her elbows. She placed them on the coffee table, next to a folded scrap of paper, and decided that her first priority should be the sink. It held the smallest workload, and the crockery could drain while they tackled the rest of the room.

She filled the sink with hot water, putting the mugs in first, and started to rummage through cupboards until she found a scouring pad. When she dipped her hands into the water, the temperature was almost enough to make her pull them out again immediately. Too hot! she added a dash of cold to make it more manageable. Better. With circular motions, she washed away the stains of tea inside the three mugs and placed them to dry.

Crow re-entered the room while she was weighing up the pros and cons of washing the plates next, or the frying pan. "So Yuusei's… Huh, Aki, what are you doing?"

"Tidying," she said, not even glancing at him. She decided on the frying pan, started to scrub at the dried … whatever inside. "You were saying about Yuusei?"

"You don't have to do this." She could barely hear his footsteps; he was still barefoot. "You're a guest here, Aki. You don't have to tidy up – it's not fair on you."

"And who else would be doing it?"

"Well, me."

"Exactly." Removing the pan from the water, she ran a finger over the inside to make sure it was clean. To her, the logic of her actions made perfect sense. "It's not fair on you either."

He said her name like it was an exasperated sigh, but she knew, if she turned to look at him, she'd see that his eyes had softened with amusement. She liked that about Crow. He was always so easy to understand. Not complex like Jack. Not inscrutable like…

"Yuusei has gone over to Martha's," Crow said, the scrape of his trousers – heavy canvas, too long for him – informing her of his movement. Paper rustled as he gathered the sheets together. He'd not even needed prompting. "We told her about the accident, of course, but she wants to talk in person. She's like our mum, after all, and it's one of her kids in there…"

Aki made a small hum of agreement, set the pan aside. "Do you think they will visit him? Carly and the twins will be going over there now, to the hospital, before the twins go off to school. She wanted to see him."

"…It's likely."

For the next couple of minutes, they focussed on their selected tasks. Aki stacked the final plate in the drainer and turned to look for a towel. "What's happening downstairs?" she asked, "It looks very complicated."

Crow let out a small laugh while admitting, "I don't understand either. Yuusei and Bruno don't operate on the same level as the rest of us, remember? Put them in front of a machine, it's like they start talking a different language."

"I'm sure they say the same about you and your accounts," she joked. Her smile was the first genuine one she'd worn in what felt like far too long. "Still, I'm surprised one of them isn't supervising. Has Bruno—?"

"Said he needed to get something," Crow said before she could even finish her question. "He'll be no more than ten minutes, I reckon."

The smile dropped from her lips. Last night had planted suspicions in her head, and she didn't want to discuss them in front of anyone but another Signer. "Crow, there's something we have to talk about. About Iliaster, and Carly."

When he next spoke, the laughter faded from his voice. "I'm listening."

"She was a Dark Signer before. She's the Hummingbird from a year ago." Aki located a tea-towel and wiped down two of the mugs, before putting the kettle on to boil. Teabags were kept in the right-hand cupboard, she remembered; getting them out took only a few seconds. "…Until recently – not long before she disappeared, in fact – she remembered nothing of what happened back then."

"But Kiryu remembered," Crow pointed out, "and so did Bommer, bits of it."

"Misty too. She wouldn't be in contact with me otherwise. And nobody knows anything about Demak, but it's a fair guess to say he, wherever he is, remembers too… There's something strange about Carly Nagisa and I can't figure out _what_."

"…she really is a Dark Signer, then?" He sounded confused. Aki could sympathise. Just thinking about the implications gave her a headache. "But yesterday our marks didn't react when – when we saw her. She can't be one."

"That's what puzzles me." The kettle hissed. Aki poured water into both mugs. For a moment she pondered making a third, for when Bruno returned. She stuck with two. "Last night…"

"Your birthmarks. We felt it. But I thought you weren't in any danger—"

"We weren't." Closing her eyes, Aki wondered how best to phrase the awful truth. "It was that Emperor—the child—Lucciano."

The name left ripples in its wake. She half expected a verbal reaction, explosive; so it came as a surprise when she heard only the sound of the couch being shifted back into position.

"…Crow?"

"It was her, wasn't it?" He paused, staring out the window thoughtfully. "Not Jack at all. The target was always her."

Aki nodded. "I think so. I can't see any other explanation." The tea had finished steeping by now – she turned back to it, digging a spoon out from one of the kitchen drawers; the bustle of everyday activity distracted her from the problems they had to face. "Sugar, no milk?"

"No – no sugar, thank you."

He always had sugar. Why the change? She put the caddy back in its original place and carried the tea across, offering one mug to him. Crow accepted with a grateful, though tense smile; she retreated to the couch, where she took a sip from her mug. The heat nearly scalded her tongue. It tasted bitter. She'd never been that fond of tea.

"So what was an Emperor doing there?"

"He tried to kill her. Carly. He…" Aki placed her mug on the coffee table, closed her eyes. The shadows of violet flames still flickered behind her eyelids. "Do you remember when he dueled the twins? This was completely different. Just cold anger. Even more dangerous than he seemed before, if that's possible. But he failed. I think the jibakushin… seemed like it was protecting her."

The scrape of a chair voiced protest as Crow pulled one closer to him. He sat, tipped it back against the wall, arms folded, feet dangling into space. He looked oddly vulnerable. Aki had never seen him so open, even after he injured his shoulder almost five, six weeks ago. "Wouldn't that be counterproductive, though? It's in the jibakushin's interests if she dies. Then he gets a body and she's unable to fight back…"

"Oh, we don't need to worry about Carly not fighting back." Aki almost smiled at the memory of the jibakushin's enraged shriek; would have, had it not come with the accompanying image of a gash in the unwilling host's arm. "She threatened it last night, and it backed down."

"He's weakened then," the young man said, swept up in the same tide of speculation. "Isn't he? Asra Piskey or whatever—"

"Aslla piscu."

"Yeah. That." His tone said, _Do I really care?_ "He can't be at full strength, Carly wouldn't stand a chance otherwise. When Bommer got taken over, the jibakushin was the only one in charge. No human consciousness left at all." Crow drank, not caring about the heat of his tea, and rocked forwards. The front chair-legs reunited with the floor. He set his mug down. "And Iliaster? What of them?"

Aki had hoped he would leave that question until later. "I'm not certain yet, but they definitely tie into this. I think Lucciano is some sort of clue, though. Why would he try to kill Carly?"

"Maybe she knew too much."

"But they could just change her memo—" Aki's voice trailed off for two reasons. First was the sound of footsteps downstairs, Bruno's voice filtering up to them (4 minutes early, she should have made a third cup). Second… the thoughtful frown Crow wore, and the deliberate tapping of a finger against his right arm. She uttered a small, _oh_.

"It's just a theory," Crow said quietly, gaze flickering towards the staircase. "But if you're right – if Aslla pisca" ("_piscu,_" she corrected him on autopilot) "really is protecting her, then she might be immune to their history tricks. Like us. Hey, Bruno," he continued in a louder voice, standing and disappearing down the stairs, "have you found anything useful yet…?"

Aki sipped some more of her tea before returning to the sink, intent on finishing her task. A melodic chime cut her off. Her mobile. She pulled it out, setting the rose-shaped charm swinging. A message from Yuusei danced across the screen, but before she could open the text she became aware of feet pounding upstairs. Bruno's shadow fell across her. Crow hovered at his elbow, wearing an expression that redefined '_fury_'. "They changed history. Look." He brandished a newspaper in her direction – a free one Bruno had probably taken from outside a subway station – and the headline leapt out at her:

_FORMER KING IN FIGHT FOR LIFE!_

She plucked the newspaper from his hands, which were trembling with rage. Below the headline sat an image of the duel lanes. A behemoth form, Aslla piscu, hovered with wings outstretched, captured on camera with its beak stabbing down. Something was missing from the picture, something important, but she had no idea what it could be…

Yuusei's message. Her fingers jabbed _open_ on reflex. Kanji spilled over the screen of her mobile. 7:39 – _Aki. Don't let Carly watch the news. _

In the top right corner of the screen, the clock read 7:41.

"Crow—check the news channel, quick…"

He nodded and darted towards the television, cursing when his leg banged against the coffee table _en route_. Flicking through the channels, he stopped when Bruno called out. The figure of a blonde reporter – Angela, proclaimed a bar at the bottom of the screen – stood outside Security Headquarters. She was already halfway through her report, and Crow shushed them (needlessly- both Aki and Bruno were silent). With a jolt Aki realised what was missing from the picture – the Machine Emperor – but she had little chance to wonder why. Listening to this became the more pressing issue.

"…_meanwhile a spokesman for the Public Security Maintenance Bureau declined to address rumours that a potential suspect was released yesterday without charge."_ The camera cut to a grizzled-looking man in uniform, who gave the usual spiel about pursuing all available lines of enquiry; cut, question from one of the reporters thronging around the steps, evasion of the subject; before Angela appeared again. _"Sections of the highway remained cordoned off while investigations continue, however, it remains unclear what effect this will have on the WRGP, if a—"_

Her face was smothered mid-word by the blank of a dormant screen. Crow threw the remote back onto the couch. His eyes clouded over with anger. "This whole investigation is a farce," he spat. "Iliaster won't ever be caught, not when they can reshape history to their whims."

"At least _we_ know the truth—"

"What good does that do?" Bruno asked, glancing between them. "Crow is right. Without evidence we have no case, no leads – nothing that _Security_ can use," he added, cutting off the retort one of them was certain to make. "The only thing we can do is…"

"…face Iliaster in the finals," Aki finished, fingering the rose charm with dread. Could they do it? Could they win—without Jack?

"One step at a time." Bruno sighed. He was beyond tired, even beyond the realm of _exhausted_. He gathered up the tools littering the coffee table and surrounding floor, turned to retreat to his sanctuary of mechanics. "I'll tune up the Bloody Kiss for you later, Aki, once these two are out the way…"

"Thank you." She didn't _feel_ thankful, of course, but it was her role as the fourth wheeler to step up and fill the vacancy. All she could think was, _It should be Jack here, not me._ "Good luck…"

Silence for five, six seconds as the creak of footsteps receded; then—

"Damn it all," Crow muttered as soon as Bruno moved out of earshot. His haze of anger was already on the wane, leaving him leaning under the weight of resignation. "We're out of our league, aren't we?" Aki remained silent. The question was asked for the sake of saying something, anything; he didn't expect an answer. She walked over to the coffee table and started to slip her gloves back on. As she did so, her fingers brushed against the folded scrap of paper she noticed and dismissed earlier. She picked it up, unfurled it.

Dropped it back onto the table with a gasp.

"…_somebody_ out there thinks this is amusing," she whispered. A single red hair snarled in her glove, long and gossamer-thin. It had caught in the fabric when she opened the note. Instinctively she sought out the window, crossing to it and peering at the rooftops for a flash of white-and-blue. "He's toying with us."

"This is Jack's handwriting," Crow said. "Wait, no… but it looks like his."

"We're being given a chance."

"Can't be what you're thinking, look here – this place, Jack's old haunt, it burned down two years ago."

"It's a clue. Do you see it? Iliaster must be behind this."

"…Unless it's from Jack."

"How?" She turned on him. Jack, Jack, _Jack_. The preoccupation of their thoughts, manifest in everything her fellow Signer said. "Tell me, Crow. How could he send us a message when he's in a coma? And why would _this_ be tangled in it? It has to be that Lucciano's work!" A stray thought wormed into her suspicions. "He came in here. Without anyone realising. Left the note…"

"Aki, just stop." She started to protest. His hands cut a path through air: _Please, listen_. There was barely a metre's distance between them. She could smell the damp of his hair, the hint of shampoo. "I should have told you sooner, but you were so caught up with the Security side of things… No. I saw him. Jack. Yesterday."

"Well we all did," said Aki, confused, "visiting hours…"

"Not like that. It was before then. I thought it was a dream, but dreams don't leave you injured." He lifted a hand to her, showing the raw-pink badge of healing skin. "No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to him."

She shook her head in disbelief, and after a glance at his face, asking permission, she traced the outline of the injury. It looked like it was only a graze, but even that was cause for alarm. She trusted him to tell her the truth. If he said it came from a… not even a dream, then it surely had. But still… This made no sense. She repeated that thought aloud, unable to tear her eyes from the mark of evidence across the heel of his hand. Crow's gaze turned distant. "When's the last time things _did_ make sense?" he asked wearily. They both knew the answer. Things hadn't been normal since Ghost's first appearance seven months ago.

"Crow, Aki-neesan!" a voice called, Rua's distinctive footsteps clattering up the stairs– he always climbed them as if by luck, half running, half falling. They looked over as the green head appeared, his hair bobbing furiously, school-tie hanging undone around his neck. "Are you—eh? Am I interrupting something?"

…what? She had no idea what he was talking about—Oh. Aki snatched her hand back, blushing despite herself. She wasn't even sure _why_ she was blushing—she'd only been touching his hand out of concern, after all—but the nature of Rua's question had turned a simple gesture of friendship into something almost obscene. "No," she said. "I thought you were at the hospital…?"

Rua stared at them for a moment in curiosity. Then the question registered, and a hand lifted to the back of his head in embarrassment. He grinned, a half-hearted effort. The effort it took was plain to see. "Oh, yeah. We came here instead. Ruka said I should run ahead – she didn't say why, but I think it's a Signer thing."

Another voice slipped into the degenerating atmosphere, a woman's voice, composed. "Carly is with her, I take it." Eyes latched onto the blue head appearing over the rim of the partition; the question of _why_ leapt to the front of Aki's mind. Rua retreated to a position at the other end of the coffee table, allowing Mikage space to enter the haven of the apartment. It made for a curious division of the room, with two Signers (plus one honorary) staring at the interloper; except Mikage was as deeply embedded in this as any of them.

Rua nodded in reply, "Mhm! They won't be long at all."

The boy appeared to want to say more, but Crow beat him to the punch, changing the subject entirely. "What the hell was up with that report earlier, Mikage-san?"

Mikage hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "It appears there is a discrepancy between what people remember," she said, shuffling the papers on her ever-present clipboard, "and for some reason my colleagues in Security don't recall certain details. Like the Synchro Killers."

"Yeah, we already know they've fucked up history yet _again_." Crow moved away from her, towards the window in an attempt to escape the burden of disapproval his language gained. It was a wonder that the glass remained intact under the intensity of his stare. He rolled his shoulders, picked restlessly at the leather bands around his biceps. "What I'm getting at is, _Why _do people suddenly think Carly's responsible?"

"They don't know who is," Aki felt the need to point out. "It seems logical, too. Since Aslla piscu is the only thing in that photo—"

Mikage continued to address Crow, voice mild yet cutting. "Please stop this. Some of us do recall what happened. Kazama Souichi, for one, and I remember too, though I don't know why—"

"I touched your hand," Aki whispered. Her head reeled with the impossibility of it all. "I thought I only imagined the ripple. So it was real?"

"Kazama – He's the guy Jack accidentally landed in hospital, right?"

Rua's voice, an undercurrent shifting through the tangle of words, "Aki-neesan, are you okay?"

Too confusing. All the words jumbled up in her head. Too many people were trying to talk at once, too many threads overlapping. A crinkle in her hand; she was clutching the note again, clutching it close like a lifeline. Aki was still convinced of Iliaster's involvement but nothing could prove it to her fellow Signer, not even the evidence of that single red hair. "We're never going to get the full picture," she said to no-one in particular. "Look at us. We can't even put together what we _do_ know." Because there was no head to check the impetuous snatch of the claws, or curb the tail's instinct to lash out. No wings to drag the rest of them into line. Aki's distracted gaze flickered to the window. A dark-clad form moved at the corner of her vision. There, at the shadow's side, walked a smaller, paler figure. Two of the missing pieces. She dropped the note. Perhaps she announced their arrival, maybe she didn't; all she knew was that she _had_ to get downstairs before anyone interrupted.

"Ruka, Carly," she greeted them – they entered the garage just as she'd almost reached the bottom of the stairs. A click sounded as the main door swung shut. Her eyes were drawn to the solemn expression the youngest Signer wore. Descending the last three steps, she continued, "What's wrong? I thought you were…"

"…He isn't there."

Once again Aki found herself fearing the worst outcome – but Jack _couldn't_ be dead. She hated this limbo of uncertainty and her growing tendency of assuming the worst. "Ruka, I don't understand. He has to be—"

"Jack is there, but _Jack_ isn't. He's empty and cold. It's just the Crimson Dragon keeping him alive – there's no _Jack_ left in him." Ruka sounded too calm about the matter, wise beyond her twelve years, like she had had far more time to come to terms with the possibility. The cold trickle of discomfort down the back of Aki's neck… _this couldn't be real_.

"…we have to do something."

Bruno's voice behind them – of course, he was down here too, his presence had slipped her mind _again_ –

Carly smiled softly, a response out of touch with the gravity of the situation; she shifted a long object clutched in her arms. A tube of some kind, with one end wrapped in a blanket. Aki couldn't guess at what it might be, and the vague distance in the Dark Signer's smile betrayed no clues. "How far away is the Arcadia Movement?"

* * *

There had to be a rule, somewhere: Never trust the person who says, _"I have a plan."_ Half the time they were lying through their teeth, making things up as they went along, or just plain hadn't a clue… and Crow reckoned the current situation fell firmly into that third category. Black Bird's engine murmured as rider and D-Wheel came to a gentle stop at the foot of a skyscraper. Bruno pulled up alongside. His vehicle whirred in protest – why the mechanic persisted in using a model of such limited capacity, Crow hadn't a clue. He glanced around. The streets were busy today despite the later hour, long past ten o'clock, people hurrying to and fro on pointless, scattered errands. Beyond them, the structure once known as the Arcadia Movement jutted into the sky like an arrogant, uplifted finger. Of the assembled company, Crow and Bruno were the only ones who had never encountered Divine. From the little information that others had divulged… Crow was glad he hadn't. Meeting a monster like that – a man who had killed children simply because they didn't match up to his expectations – well, it'd be enough to say that he sounded like scum. Worse than scum. And this building, the man's legacy, made something in him lurch uneasily. Why here, of all places? He removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm as he swivelled to check the progress of the car slowly approaching them through the early morning traffic. Carly Nagisa made no sense even when she was alive. Dead, she somehow managed to become even more of a mess of contradictions.

People were whispering. Some gave him and Bruno a wide berth, casting suspicious glances at the yellow marks twisting his face. Crow was used to such suspicion. Not everybody would let go of the old prejudices so easily, and unlike Yuusei he was hardly a famous face; celebrity gained you forgiveness for anything, it seemed. He was constantly overshadowed by the fame of his brothers and teammates and he liked it that way. He would much rather duel on a casual level and devote the majority of his time to his delivery service—but the WRGP had come calling, and he hadn't been able to resist its allure…

Cough of an vehicle as it paused, and stopped. Mikage parked nearby, and the three women – she, Aki, and the Dark Signer who had kick-started this particular mess – joined them at the edge of the sidewalk. Carly clutched the object even tighter. Her gaze drifted up the side of the skyscraper, face turning pallid. Why had she asked to come here? Crow was lost. None of this made any sense to him. Aki, too, seemed uncomfortable, doubtless from their proximity to her former home: she'd never gone back.

"What now?"

Hesitating for a moment, Carly shook her head and turned her face from the building. She shuddered. Her stare dropped to the pavement. "I think it's this way," she said, hugging her poster-tube (he was certain of what the cylinder was, at least). Her heels tapped briskly across the pavement. Bruno moved to catch up to her; he was almost forced to run, she walked away from the scene so quickly. For a moment Crow was tempted to hang back. Something about the Dark Signer set him on edge. He couldn't quite put his finger on it; it was like there was always some kind of haze around her. It made his mark crawl with discomfort. Thinking back to the conversation not two hours earlier, he tried to reconcile Aki's speculation with the constant nervous tension passing between him and their dark counterpart. The only conclusion he could draw wasn't one he wanted to consider… what if this 'Carly Nagisa' was nothing more than a mask the jibakushin had fashioned to shield itself from view, a parody of a long-dead woman? Should they even trust her? What if – Crow jumped at the sound of somebody calling his name; Aki, paused at the edge of the sidewalk, was staring at him with thinly veiled irritation, and he realised that while he'd been rooted in thought the others had moved on. He stood up, patted the side of his D-Wheel, and hurried towards his fellow Signer and friend. Some people muttered as he passed – more of the prejudiced City-dwellers – but he ignored them. Just had to focus on getting past the throng of people in his way.

Aki was a flicker against the crowd, static and unmoving. "This way," she said when he was close enough, pointing towards a single-story building – some storage unit, he reckoned, by the way it hugged the ground in comparison to surrounding high-rise structures. "We have to hurry up. Letting her wander around like this—"

"But Mikage and Bruno are still with her?"

"Yes, but," the flicker of her eyes, back towards the motley assortment of vehicles, held no answers, "we never know what's going on with Carly, with anything. I'd rather not take any risks."

Which was completely understandable, and it was nice to know Aki was finally getting the same uneasy vibes as him at long last, and … for some reason totally obscure to him, the other three had been standing near that building, only now the dark-clad figure was starting to move again. He broke into a run, Aki at his shoulder, and before the Dark Signer had managed more than ten paces they caught up. "Oi, Carly, where do you think you're going?"

"Inside." She blinked in confusion and made a vague gesture to illustrate her intent. The structure she had led them to appeared to be unsound, unsafe. Around it was a barrier of tickertape, KEEP OUT. Mikage, hanging back by the kerb, appeared ill at ease. Technically entering the warehouse would probably be breaking some law or another. Crow could understand the Chief's concern, heck, he even found himself agreeing with her unspoken discomfort. But if Carly said this was it, then they had no choice but to believe her. (Trust her? Crow scoffed at the thought. Trust her? Never.) He peered closer. From the look of it, the warehouse had been long deserted, possibly for more than a year. Ivy was trying to creep along a drainpipe. Smashed windows, broken boards, through which starving branches reached in search of sunlight. A hefty enough blow and the roof would crumple like paper. Seriously, who had allowed this place to stay standing? It was worse off than some of his old boltholes in Satellite, and that said something considerable when taking into account what he'd come from. This? this was strange. Uncanny, almost. A blotch of decay against the orderly backdrop that comprised this part of the City.

Crow shook his head to clear it of those thoughts. He had no idea what was wrong with him today. He didn't usually get this thoughtful, but then he rarely had need to. Leave that to Yuusei; he'd rather concentrate on his business. Still, at least half of what had just passed through his head was relevant. "This is it? Somebody should have demolished it years ago."

Carly nodded. "It's like the building is dying," she said. (Crow hoped that the note of… not quite eagerness, more relief passing through her voice was just a product of his mind; he had enough to worry about without considering dark alternatives.) "Come on. We have to go inside. That's where it is."

He had to restrain himself from asking the obvious question, _'Where what is?'_ and settled for walking half a pace behind and slightly to the right – so he could be certain she wasn't planning anything.

"The pathway you described to us, Crow, it reminds me of the Underworld. I remember it, a little. I've been there. I think that's where we went after losing the duel."

"You _think_?"

She shuffled uneasily as they crossed the threshold, to the utter disregard of the pedestrians still scurrying on their business. "Well—I don't really remember! Funny how these things work out… eh-heh…" Her nervous attempt at laughter trailed off into the grim, oppressive silence of a warehouse that sat silent, like a tomb. Crow stared at her, incredulous. It was official. Carly Nagisa didn't have a clue what she was doing. They were following the lead of a madwoman. A madwoman with memory loss. A madwoman who might not even be really there, might be nothing more than a shell worn by evil. Then again that rather depended on Asra pisca… _whatever_ its name was being patient and canny enough to fool them. Right? He didn't think so. Somehow he got the impression that if the jibakushin really wanted to pull the wool over their eyes, set them to chasing whispers, tangle them in lies then _it could_. And would, without a moment's hesitation.

"I died here," came the eventual whisper. Within moments Carly had shifted back to the dark troubled mindset that set Crow's nerves on edge. "I lost the duel and fell… I must have hit the roof, just there, and gone straight through… it didn't hurt for long. Just for a moment. I couldn't quite believe it, you know? I was twenty years old. Right here. This is where I hit the ground. I remember hearing my cards, just as it all faded. They were fluttering after me. It's a strange sound, the whispers they make. They had come loose from my duel disk as I fell. Or maybe when I hit the roof. It's a little hazy. Just a cloud of spinning cards. That's the last thing I remember seeing before I ended up on that roof. The roof of the Arcadia Movement, I mean, not this one. No idea how I got there. I just did." Her sentences turning increasingly fragmented and stilted, the Dark Signer knelt at the edge of a crater in the concrete at least a foot deep. She ran her fingers across the cracked edge as though greeting an old friend. Her eyes were shadowed, her face hidden. The motion of her hand stilled. Nothing moved. Crow hardly dared to breathe. The air inside the warehouse was cold against his face. Around them, the world slowed. Sounds of the streets receded. Everything was muted under a blanket of anticipation. Waiting.

"…That's impossible," argued Bruno, ever the voice of reason. "Crashing through the roof I'd understand, with all that rust. But this is solid concrete! A human body wouldn't _do_ that much damage, even falling from that sort of height. If we take the distance as… what, one-hundred-fifty metres? That sounds close enough. Gravitational acceleration of nine point eight metres per second per second—that's per second squared—" He paused, frowning. His eyes scrunched up in thought. "Five point five seconds from stationary to impact. Estimating mass at fifty-two kilograms, so that would give a force of five hundred and nine point six Newtons when hitting the ground, assuming that air resistance is zero…"

Beyond the mechanic's thoughtful pacing, a hypnotic to-and-fro, Aki looked bewildered and thoroughly out of her depth. Crow himself could barely follow the rapid stream of – he could only describe it as technobabble. It bore no resemblance to the maths he knew and used in his accounts. Far too complex for him to understand.

"Newton's third law applies here. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. So with a force of approximately five hundred and ten Newtons striking the ground, that means that it exerts an identical force in response. The human body simply cannot cause that sort of impact!" He gestured towards the crater in an attempt to emphasise the point.

He might say that, but the truth was still undeniably there. Bruno's attempts to rationalise a clearly irrational situation fell flat. Crow's gaze skittered back to the crater and the dark figure knelt beside it. Her posture was stiff, unnaturally so. Oh. _Shit_. "Impossible, you say?" Carly asked. Her words sent a prickle of dis-ease down Crow's neck. They were too hushed, too calm. "So you would deny the truth?"

"It makes no _sense_," Bruno said insistently, oblivious to the slash of Crow's hand, a gesture that screamed, _Stop talking!_ "Falling onto a hard surface like concrete would mean the force of impact is applied for much less time than a fall onto a softer surface—"

Carly interrupted him. "Your scepticism is annoying. Accept what happened." Slowly, she turned to face them. Her eyes were closed, but the triangular marking under her left eye appeared to be glowing slightly. Then they opened to reveal black. Crow hissed curses under his breath and cast around for some sort of weapon, anything they could use to fend off the Dark Signer whose mad gaze promised malice. For the moment her focus was solely on Bruno but the risk of being caught off guard set alarms clattering in his ears. He didn't dare risk the safety of the others. How did Yuusei do it, cope with the responsibility of their lives? Crow could never be a leader. He worried too much. Damn it! There was nothing nearby, nothing that leapt out at him. "Unless you care to test your hypothesis? It could be arranged."

Bruno seemed oblivious to the danger he was in, more curious as to how the laws of physics had been so carelessly broken. The whisper of a laugh shivered high and eerie around the cold stagnant warehouse; Crow sprang forwards, trying to intercept her motion as a gloved arm snatched at the air; he ordered Bruno and Mikage back, thinking only of protecting as many people as possible. Aki reacted too, starting towards their dark counterpart with a shocked, "Carly!" He could not understand why, even now, she seemed so determined that the Dark Signer needed their help. They had to stop her. That was more important than anything. They couldn't risk the jibakushin being unleashed, especially not with Iliaster's constant threat.

Some deeply cynical part of him argued that the situation wasn't as bad as it could be. Two Signers against one weakened Dark Signer. They probably stood half a chance of subduing her without any harm—.

Fingernails lashed, clawed, dug deep into the centre of the faint glowing mark that adorned Carly's right arm, accompanied by a sound halfway between a gasp and a sob. Her face contorted into an agonised grimace. The action was so sudden, so unexpected, that it forced Crow to hesitate, scarcely able to believe what he saw. What was going on? Aki's words from not even three hours before drifted back to him. Carly Nagisa had forced her jibakushin to back down once before; perhaps she could do it again. Gradually, as though someone had put everything into slow motion, she started to crumple from the waist. Her nails still gouged through the glove into skin. Aki continued to approach her, radiating concern and worry. The Signer reached out tentative hands and wrapped an arm around Carly's shoulders, lending her support. Their marks fully flared to life at the contact. Fire blazed down Crow's forearm. He hissed at the sudden burn. It hurt. So it seemed their marks only reacted when Carly was in direct contact with a Signer. Yet the closer they kept her, the more it seemed that dratted Hummingbird kept in line.

(Aki was whispering, _it's okay, you're not alone, let us help you, it's okay_.)

Except things clearly weren't okay, and Crow had no way of telling if they ever would be again—

With a sound like a sob, Carly tore herself away from Aki's protective hold, almost fell, stumbled, barely found her balance. Her legs were shaking, unsteady. "He's retreated for now. I have to be quick…"

"For now?" Crow repeated, still trying to figure out just what was going on, and Carly nodded. He thought it was a nod, at any rate, but it could quite as easily been an involuntary shudder.

"He won't give up. Not until I'm his. I have to leave before he – before he –" Hand darting out to the tube she had dropped in those terrifying moments when the Hummingbird took control, Carly fumbled with the blanket wrapped around the end, tugged its contents free. A sword. Aki's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise.

He recognised the infinity symbol decorating just below the hilt. He'd bet anything the other 5D's members had too. "Why do you have that?" Bruno demanded – his voice rose a fraction in shock – at the same time that Mikage, pushing aside any misgivings she might have had about this whole situation, started to speak: "You are in no condition to go anywhere – stop being so foolish…"

"It's the only way!" Carly insisted. She turned so she could see them all, gaze roving over each in turn. "It's my fault Jack is hurt. I have to be the one who brings him back. Please, allow me!"

"…Carly…"

Taking that whisper of her name as some form of assent, she whirled around and approached the crater. She held the sword in both hands; it looked too heavy for just one hand to take its weight. Silently, with a practised ease drawing on all his years as a thief, Crow started to approach her with the intent of following her through whatever portal she created. No way was he letting her go off on her own, not when his brother's life was at stake. The sword tip lifted. It rested on an invisible stop in the air. She just needed to drag it down, open a path, like the one he'd witnessed atop the Monument.

_What are you waiting for? Hurry up._

A convulsive swallow and she started to bring it down—

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!"

The voice of a young boy tumbled into the dingy warehouse, high and mocking. Carly yelped and dropped the sword. Immediately Crow tried to seek out the speaker. There, on the roof. Red hair, green eye. A frown, and not the grin he expected of the youngest Emperor – no, the monster wearing a child's face. "Unless—so you're looking for eternal damnation? Be our guest."

Behind him he could hear Aki whispering under her breath—so maybe Lucciano _had_ played some role, big deal, Crow still believed he wasn't the mastermind running this freakshow of events—while off to one side, Mikage inhaled sharply. "That's—"

"—Yeah, we know." Crow looked around at their group, weighing up the odds in case it came to a confrontation. Had to keep the Emperor talking. This one was dangerous; he'd almost killed the twins, and had stopped Mizoguchi with ruthless efficiency. All of them were dangerous, in their ways, but that old one only acted in retaliation and the middle one would have tried to kill them all by now in impatience. In a way, they were _lucky_ it was only Lucciano. Lifting his head towards the figure perched at the edge of the hole in the roof, he spoke up. "What does Iliaster want this time?"

"From you? Nothing. You guys aren't nearly interesting enough." There was the grin, flitting across his mouth for no more than a second; Crow's jaw clenched at the flippant reply. "I thought it strange that you'd immediately run to your enemies, Nagisa, but then you aren't really one for sense are you?"

_**Leave.**_

The god's voice hissed through the warehouse, and Crow felt a clammy chill ripple the length of his spine. The Hummingbird was nothing if not talkative, compared to its brethren at least, but the simmering rage in that single word… Surely Hell had frozen over. Signer and Dark Signer, sharing a common enemy. Nothing made the remotest bit of sense, but he would never consider that evil creature to be anything even _like_ an ally.

Lucciano leaned forwards, shifting into a crouch, and his gaze lit with malice. "Never."

A clattering sound. Carly once again held the sword. "I'm sorry," she said to Crow, "it's the only way. Don't follow me."

Then it descended in an arc, and light flared from the gash ripped through the fabric of space. Their Marks, all three, lit up with crimson and purple. The light reached out to them, probing, questioning, and he lifted a hand to ward off its harsh glare. Squinted to make out the elusive shadows behind. The sketch of a mazelike catacomb stretching into nothing, white against white and a flutter of movement—oh god, _Jack!_ Jack again. He started forwards despite the way his mark seared deep into his flesh, like the Crimson Dragon itself was attempting to restrain him. That was _Jack_! His brother. He couldn't stand by and do nothing. The dark blur that was Carly Nagisa approached the breach and faded into it, black to grey to a smudge indistinguishable from the white.

Wait—!

He cried out involuntarily as the energy flickered against his arm. Ice against fire, and it burned.

Then, just as sudden, it was over. His vision cleared, and behind he heard the others muttering their shocked confusion. "She's gone," somebody breathed into the unnatural chill. Crow looked around. Everyone seemed to be okay. Everyone, except… Slowly, his head rose until his gaze was level with the gaping, empty hole in the roof. He wasn't surprised. In fact, part of him expected this outcome.

'Cause Carly wasn't the only disappearance.

* * *

A/NAnyone out there who is a scientist? If you see something wrong with Bruno's physics moment earlier, either the calculation or his (garbled) explanation, please don't hesitate to let me know. We've tried our best to get it right but there's still a possibility we managed to make a mistake somewhere. Many thanks to Heleentje and Xero_Slayer (of Janime) for their help with this section – conferring with people is definitely a good way to get the ideas sorted. I honestly don't know where I'd be without you guys~!

Hope you've enjoyed the chapter. I'll try not to take so long with the next one, though hopefully nothing will require a full rewrite of _all_ component parts…


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